She Was Not Happy
by pokeitlikejello
Summary: Just some Huddy angst and drama. A quick little fic with a powerful punch. And there's a bit o' humor to heighten it.


**Just a little oneshot. Enjoy!**

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The door slammed in his face. Third time in two minutes. Probably a record. His forehead thudded loudly as he slammed it against the door, instantly regretting it as the pain spread. But, maybe it would get her to open the door after she swore him off.

Thud.

Is this really what it was coming to now?

Thud.

Every evening like this? A smile. An insult. Face fallen. Instant regret. Hell.

Thud.

The door swung open. She was _not_ happy. _Definitely_ not happy. He moved back and squinted. What was next? God, he hoped no more physical pain. He could take it if he had to. But, he'd rather not.

"I'll call the cops."

"Yeah, right. Like I haven't heard that before."

She went to close the door and he swung his cane in. It made a horrible splintering sound. He winced. She might as well have sacked him in the stomach.

The door opened a bit more. She was staring at the few black chips of paint on her wood floor. She regretted it, he knew. With a sigh, she threw her door open and walked away from him, her black silk robe swishing out behind her.

He shut the door with a soft click. Using his now damaged cane, he headed toward the living room where she was waiting to get it over with.

"Gonna buy me a new one?" He meant the cane. Though, a new ego would be nice. She kind of crushed it along with his cane. If he had stuck his leg out instead of the cane? Broken tibia came to mind without Cuddy even batting an eyelash.

She had her hands on her hips, facing him. He wondered if she knew her black nightie was a bit see through. Then, he thought of her black underwear. Then, he figured she must know which of her clothes were see through. Then, he realized her eyes were burning him.

"What?" He was exaggerating his words. She hated that. "Cutting me with your retinas, Cuddy?"

"Can we do this already, please?" It wasn't as fun when she was already defeated. "What is it that you really want, House?"

"Well, if you're going to be like that..." He moved toward the doorway. She didn't stop him, so he stopped himself and faced her. "Patience, Cuddy. You need to have patience."

"I have patience," she deadpanned. "You suck it dry."

Ouch. "Ouch, Cuddy. You know I only do it to help you."

She raised her eyebrows. "Help me?"

"Yes," he replied. "How else would you cope with little problems if you didn't have to put up with me, hm? Everything else pales in comparison."

She stared. He waited for a reaction, a response. She still wasn't too pleased. He swung his cane out and began to pace. If she wasn't going to talk, then he would.

"This is the problem with us, Cuddy." He was really just pulling bullshit. Most of this wasn't true. He just needed to kill the silence and soothe himself by listening to his own voice. "We need to understand that I can't be happy while you're happy, you can't be happy while I'm happy. That's just the way things work between us. So, I can make you miserable and you can profit from that by-"

His eyebrows drew together. He had finally looked to her after a good start of ranting and she was doing the very thing that always made him uncomfortable. Of course, he couldn't keep going on now.

Her shoulders were bent forward. Her head was down and one hand was covering her eyes. Her unkempt hair fell alongside of her face.

A sigh escaped from his parted lips. He studied her, debating on his next move. Either way, he knew he would make things worse. So, he sighed loudly.

"Why are you crying?" He made his voice loud enough to startle her, but she didn't flinch. Tonight really wasn't his night. "Cuddy."

"Can you just go?" she asked out, but still didn't move.

He actually considered this. His jaw set, he took a step, but didn't continue. He really didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go back to his empty apartment. Couldn't he just be nice for once?

"That's funny," he raised his eyebrows as the words came out. "I always thought tears seared the flesh of Satan."

That got her to turn, which is what he wanted, after all. She was glaring, of course. Sometimes he forgot what her smile looked like. He wished he had the power to make her smile for him now. Even if it was just for a second.

"What the hell do you want, House?" She was too exhausted. "I mean, _really_. What can I do to make this stop? Please, _please_, if you have one ounce of compassion in you, please tell me what I'm doing to _deserve_ this."

That did it. Now, he felt like shit. Not that it was too different from any other day. She always fought back, though. He wondered why she couldn't today.

He collected himself well and pulled the parts of himself that had scattered around the room back to him. He couldn't look at her now. He cocked his head to the side as he focused on her almost transparent nightie.

"Nothing."

Digging his cane into the ground, he took off for her front door. She didn't follow, but folded her arms across her chest in a sad attempt to comfort herself. The shutting of the door resonated throughout her home, striking her most deeply at the ache in her chest.

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**Fin.**


End file.
